From the author

Sending my written work to the moon as part of Writers on the Moon is a remarkable opportunity and I owe a debt of gratitude to Susan Kaye Quinn.  I admire her remarkable vision and hard work in creating this opportunity. Getting married to my lover, at Nassau Memorial Stadium in 2012 in the Zamboni corner, during first intermission of a Bruins-NY Islander game, as it was broadcast on the jumbotron and Boston and NYC sports TV, was unusual and exciting for this Canadian, but this is out of this world in a whole different, literal (and literary) way! 

Perhaps I was destined for this moonshot because on July 20, 1969, I joined the world in watching one of the major events of our collective lifetimes. The landing of Apollo 11, the first manned mission to the lunar surface. It was so exciting I could barely contain myself. Or not. I don’t really know because I was just over three years old. Still, the fact that I had watched the moon landing has been a key narrative of my life for as long as I can remember. It always reminded me that aspiration and hard work can create success. That dreams in action can put a person on the moon. And beyond.

My viewing of the moon landing happened because my uncle Bruce had the auspicious job of babysitting me at my grandmother’s house that night, and with no great need to put me to sleep on time like my parents did, sat me with him and together we viewed that “small step for man, giant leap for mankind.”

What makes the story extra fascinating is that I was born and raised on a tiny island on the northeast coast of Newfoundland and Labrador, on Canada’s east coast. It was a town that only had electricity for four years at the time of the moon landing. Television was also a novel thing with few families owning one on our little idyllic island.

So, there we were, birthday buddies (I was born on April 8, 1966, and he was born that same date 19 years earlier) watching a momentous occasion together, this great big moon shot. It would be the first time that I was present to observe a collective event in our world’s history with people around the globe.

And so, begins my moon love.  I remember as a child thinking that the sun was something special but owned by all the other planets, however the moon belonged to Earth and earthlings alone. All earth creatures with the gift of vision have looked at the moon in wonderment through the ages. Common to all, it connects us corporeal creatures of Earth to past, present and future beings who also stared at her glowing face on an inky night.                                         ,                                                                                                     

It is surreal that here I am, over five decades later, sending my books to the moon as a digital payload on a lunar lander called Peregrine on a rocket called Vulcan Centaur, as part of my writing journey. Heck, there was likely no clue in the chattering little toddler that I was, that writing stories would even be the biggest part of my life, much less having them launched into space. 

That moment in my childhood wasn’t the only source of my fascination with le lune. (Remember the song Canadians? “Oh, the moon in June, is a big balloon, it makes you swoon, it makes you croon, it’s heaven, being on the moon. Le Lune.”) 

When you live at the edge of the ocean, it is very hard not to see a bright distant orb that can haul the ocean to and fro as something mystical. The tides were like brethren to my commercial fisherman father and his fisher friends, and the moon as their master, was honoured by them.  

There were many sayings about the moon in our unique outport Newfoundland culture, mainly as it pertained to the weather. Sayings like “if you could hang your powder horn off the hook of the crescent moon foul weather would be sure to follow,” or “never fish under the light of the full moon as it drives the cod down deep,” were common. Full moons also brought babies and shipwrecks, the best and worst of life are encapsulated in that lunar lore.

On a lighter note, one of my favourite books as a girl, one I read many times, was called Moonraker’s Bride. At the center of its plot was a tale about the drunk who saw the moon’s reflection on the surface of a pond, mistook it for a round of cheese and found himself getting soaked while trying to rake it out of the drink. Try as he might, he could not get his treasure. So, he ran for help and all the villagers came with rakes to help get this golden orb of delicious cheese from the water. Alas a cloud rolled in and the night went dark and the cheese disappeared into its depths. Disappointed, the (soon-to-be-named) moonraker went home in despair.

 I can’t recall precisely what this had to do with the romance of the book, and I do realize this town of moonrakers was rather foolish, but still, I liked the lore. And aren’t we all fools at some point? And don’t we all want more cheese? My point is, I really liked moon stories. And cheese. 

I admit I even follow the phases of the moon and have little personal rituals around it and now, by some strange twist of destiny I get to send my written work to the moon in a time capsule. It’s all positively lunar!

The Peregrine Lander itself fascinates me with its bug-like legs and body. That my own tiny bounty of writing will be transported on it and become a part of the first digital library on the moon thrills me to bits. Unlike many of those who are a part of the Writers on the Moon mission, I don’t have a large library of published books. I’ve spent much of my writing career working as a freelancer with my novel writing a sluggish, snail’s pace activity interrupted by a busy family life. Yet, my very first novel, ended up with a most serendipitous name. Written in a frenzy at age forty (my manifest number) after my fourth child entered junior kindergarten, is called The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle, and is a set in a fictional place called Rare Moon Tickle and lunar references and metaphors are woven throughout its pages, sometimes quite subtly but always there.  The book isn’t the kind of book I would write now, over a decade later and I always call it the story I needed to write at twenty that I didn’t have time for until I was forty, so its narrator is younger, more idealistic, and definitely an amateur storyteller. Yet I love the book because it is my first, the mistakes made in this first novel a lesson to be taken to subsequent books. 

A mad search through a collection of old thumb drives yielded an elusive decades old PDF and so The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle and the story of Christianna and Joe shall land on the moon that shines on their lives in Rare Moon Tickle.

My second book in the payload is Charley Through Canada, a story written in a frenzy for different reasons. It explores a modern-day couple travelling through the country I adore. It was written on a deadline in anticipation of the 150th anniversary of Canada and is a tongue in cheek, snapshot in time of the way things were that year. Charley and her companion, a Mountie no less, drop in and out of many cities and towns as they traverse the provinces west to east. It is over the top Canadian through and through and it was a lot of fun to write.

My home province, Newfoundland and Labrador is the setting for everything I write. My work is inspired by, and created for, above all else, my people. And we are a people who live close to our history in our hearts, minds, and bays.

I Breathe Their Names Once More is another independently published work that was created to remember those whose names were nearly lost, their stories dispersed by time and survival in the harsh path of the northeast winds.  The stories follow three women of three different eras. Now each of them will have their names written on the moon they all saw as they peered at the night sky. I am particularly proud of this work, because these were real people who dreamed, worked hard, lived, and died in the small region I grew up in, staring at the same moon years before I was born. The last story in this book is about my great Aunt Ida who was a career woman, a teacher of adult education in NL who died in a tragic fire in 1933. I admire her a great deal and her story is one of the saddest ones in my family’s history. She was a pioneer who set out on a path many women never had the opportunity to take. I am particularly happy to send her story on this mission.

And then there is Betsy. The Forbidden Dreams of Betsy Elliott was published in 2019. Betsy is my favourite character I’ve ever written. With a heart of both gold and steel, she seizes every opportunity afforded her in a harsh land to make life better for her and her family because that’s just how she is. Everybody loves Betsy and the constant refrain I have heard since this book was released is “where’s the sequel?” And of course, there will be one. I will never give up on Betsy until her story is fully told.

I am not one to avoid challenges, so when Engen Books put out a call to pitch for their new serial series of young adult novellas, Slipstreamers, I couldn’t resist trying. That book, The Key of Impasto is due to be published April 20, 2021. This is a novella about an archaeologist who travels to different worlds through portals on earth. It is a multi- author serial project, and the books are released quickly. My story has heroine Cassidy Cane traveling to a world where their political system is run by the artists and so beautiful that she becomes enthralled and cannot do anything unless she is wearing special glasses. She must return the newly elected, but exiled, president back to Impasto to reclaim her presidency and retrieve the stolen Key of Impasto that the president has been accused of taking. And now it appears Cassidy Cane will be traveling through a portal to a different world while on the moon!  You will find my fondness for Van Gogh’s art hidden in the pages of this book.

Above I mention that I love Betsy and would never let her go. The Secret Life of Betsy Elliott was drafted a couple of years ago. The plan is for at least one more Betsy Book. As a follow up to The Forbidden Dreams of Betsy Elliott, this book follows Betsy’s adventures in Boston in 1934 where she keeps the life she left behind a secret and rises to a degree of success she could not have imagined even in her wildest (and forbidden) dreams. Unfortunately, the person who aids her in her success, turns on her and she must flee her new city of Boston for a safer place. It is set in 1934-1938 and follows Betsy’s adventures with a whole host of new people and new ideas. Betsy was ready for Boston, but Boston was not quite ready for Betsy.

Desolate; This is a futuristic story set in 2047 and follows the story of Jean Adler as she leads her community through the devastation wrought by a disaster that impacts the entire world. Written in 2016, it reflects the mood of those who could see immediately that American democracy and the world was in danger.  It was originally published as a serial over 9 months in a local newspaper. It is now out for consideration by a local publisher. It satisfied the need in me to write the mood of the world. But for all that, it has optimism and hope as parallel threads throughout its pages.

My current project is also in the payload. It is called The Thing with Feathers. This is my most ambitious work to date and is incomplete at submission date. 

My first poetry book, Poetry from the Breeze, was published quite a while ago and unfortunately a digital copy doesn’t exist, at least not in my possession. Only its cover will be on the moon. To make up for that I included a collection I have assembled but haven’t published called Sui Generis; My goal is to publish this before it lands on the moon.

Also included is a short story called Nothing Really Happened, and a collection of poetry that I wrote when I was angry called Angry poetry. Yeah, naming things isn’t my strong suit.  

I knew I wanted to incorporate my family somehow in this project. After all, you can’t go to the moon without your loved ones. When I saw that Sue was adding some Stowaways to the payload I was delighted. Stowaways were things other than her own written works that could be sent as a file.  Here are mine.

And This One’s For Them. A book of poetry written by my daughter, Sophia (Olivarious) Carolyn Anne Chaffey when she was 16 and published by me for her through my imprint. She also designed its cover!

Also included is an Analytic Essay of Lois Lowry’s The Giver by Martina Chaffey, who was age 15 and likely the most talented writer in the family, when she wrote it. Future archaeologists may want to check out musical theater if looking for her accomplishments, however. She’s a talented singer.

My granddaughter, Aleena Williams (age 5) wanted to send a picture to the moon. So, she drew one and then sent me a photo of her holding it up and my grandson Dante Fuller, age 10, wanted to send a bio of himself to the moon. My other grandchildren, Kayden and Dominic were too little to write something, so they’re mentioned in the family tree. 

That’s right, I’m sending my family tree. Because I wouldn’t be who I am without their love and support. These are the people in my life who most influenced me. It includes both sides of my family starting with my grandparents on both sides. It lists all my children, grandchildren, in-laws, aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins’ children. As Uncle *Bruce did for me, I am creating their moon stories for them. Going forward they will always be able to say that their names are up there on the moon. 

Plus, it seemed only fair to include my uncle who launched my own moon story, who sat with me and watched Neil Armstrong take that incredible first step. 

I also invited three other stowaways, writer friends who I knew would value this opportunity. 

April Lindfors is a longtime friend. We have written poetry together for years. She has offered up two of her poems to send. 

Adrienne Chinn is sending three collections of poetry, Daisies in the Breeze, Touch Me Like the Rain and A Blade of Summer Grass. She also wrote this haiku a year ago and it speaks volumes to all of us embarking on this incredible venture together.

Look up at the moon —

I have written you a poem.

And left it for you there.

Mike Blouin: author of Skin House, inquired about Writer’s on the Moon and expressed disappointment at missing out on the opportunity. As one of my favourite writer friends, the moment I knew there was room on my manifest I sent him a message and so his book is also included as a stowaway. 

This ends my moonly-moonish-moony-moon-like tale. It is an amazing venture, to send people and things to the surface of the moon. One that started when I was a toddler and ends as I’m drafting this under the full moon of January 28, 2021. Well, this part of the journey. There is more to come. 

This photo to the left I took myself, then adjusted its impact and removed the background of the night sky. I can see the spot where the Peregrine Lander is set to land, just above the Sea of Tranquility on the image and imagine it there carrying with it the hard work of hundreds of people who, like me, want to tell stories and express the full range of the human experience with their words. To be a part of this endeavor is a deep honour. We are all just moonrakers, trying to find a treasure that vanishes when we try to grasp it. But in our writing at least, our dreams are tangible, brought to life and now, literally moon-bound.                .               

I always wonder what my wise father, Harold Johnson Parsons would say about current happenings and the other unexpected things I get up to. And I can imagine his response would be humour. My mother’s name is Alice, and he would always jokingly say to her, in a joking way, the words Jackie Gleason used to say on his old black and white show, The Honeymooners, back in the nineteen-fifties. “To the moon, Alice, you’re going to the moon!”

Yes indeed, Dad. 

We, in literary form, are indeed going to the moon!

*name of uncle on payload is changed from Wayne to Bruce for accuracy.